He set a fashion in his clique.
Envious undergraduates sought to parody his unaffected
lack of zeal and fear; it was a kind of new Byronism
more composed and dignified. "Nothing really
mattered"; among other things, this formula embraced
the dons; and though he always meant to be civil, the
effect on the college authorities was one of startling
rudeness. His indifference cut like insolence; and in
some outbreak of his constitutional levity (the
complement of his melancholy) he was "sent down" in the
middle of the second year.
The event was new in the annals of the Carthews, and
Singleton was prepared to make the most of it. It had
been long his practice to prophesy for his second son a
career of ruin and disgrace. There is an advantage in
this artless parental habit. Doubtless the father is
interested in his son; but doubtless also the prophet
grows to be interested in his prophecies. If the one
goes wrong, the others come true. Old Carthew drew
from this source esoteric consolations; he dwelt at
length on his own foresight; he produced variations
hitherto unheard from the old theme "I told you so,"
coupled his son's name with the gallows and the hulks,
and spoke of his small handful of college debts as
though he must raise money on a mortgage to discharge
them.
Pages:
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545